


Across Three Wars

by recxvery_xne



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: #LetWashRest2kForever, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, RvB Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9848693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recxvery_xne/pseuds/recxvery_xne
Summary: Maine and Washington have never exactly had it easy. Lies, betrayal, and terrible A.I. have always seemed to follow them. This documents what happened.Artwork links (Go follow her she's great):https://not-so-serious-wastebasket.tumblr.com/post/157465322611/a-comic-for-recxvery-xne-story-for-the-rvb-bighttps://not-so-serious-wastebasket.tumblr.com/post/157506585636/a-sad-wash-for-recxvery-xne-for-their-story-right





	1. Bruised Legs

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to not-so-serious-wastebasket.tumblr.com for making amazing artwork! Follow them! Also, I had a lot of fun with this, and I hope you enjoy it.

If Washington had to pinpoint the moment where shit hit the fan, he’d probably pin it to when Maine received Sigma. After that, things just...fell apart. Not all at once, but slowly. One by one more problems arose, until finally the foundation collapsed. Maine had changed so much, but Washington would be lying if he were to say that he too, hadn’t changed. Wash’s situation wasn’t much better now. Depending on how one looked at it, it was actually worse now. He was stuck in prison, removed from his Agent status, and honestly, genuinely, screwed.

Being locked up in a maximum security prison gave him a lot of time to think. Think on what he had done, what had happened. Of course he had regrets, all of the Freelancers did. His mistakes just happened to ruin everything. He should’ve spoke up sooner, should’ve pushed further, he should’ve-

Well, he should’ve done a lot of things. But this was what he did.

\--

Maine and Washington had once been together romantically. The two kept it all very quiet. Maine because he simply didn’t tell people about his life; Washington for fear that The Director may not like it. It wasn't a relationship of constant affection or romantic gestures, neither was really for that. It was a relationship that had started from a good friendship, the type where even if they broke up, they could still be friends. Of course, that didn't mean they weren't ever affectionate. They just made sure to be so out of view of everyone, especially York. They'd never hear the end of it if he had known. Unfortunately, they couldn't keep it hidden from everyone. 

Right by Washington’s side was CT. They both never really fit, and she knew him best. It didn't take her long to find out that Washington had a significant other, it showed in his face. Even on terrible days, he would still sometimes have the ghost of a smile on his lips. All she had to do was figure out what was making him smile so much.

“So, when were you gonna tell me?” CT approached Wash one night after he had put away his armor. 

“Tell you what?” Washington raised an eyebrow. 

“That you somehow managed to romance the scariest dude on our team.” Her tone held playfulness. 

He froze for a moment, but quickly recovered. “I don't know what you're talking about, Connie.”

“Yeeeeah, I'm pretty sure you do. Who else willingly smiles at him?”

“Hey, Maine isn't that bad. It just takes time to know him.” CT gave him a knowing look, as if he has just proved her point. “Look, we're friends. That's all.”

“Why are you so scared to admit it? I think you two would look great together.”

“Wait- you do?”

“Yeah, come on. It's the stereotypical big-brute-is-a-gentle-giant paired with the bitchy short person.”

“I am not bitchy. Besides, those shows are always dramatic. We're not like that.”

“So there is a you two?”

“Yes- I mean no- I mean-” He groaned, lowering his head in defeat. “Yes, we're dating.”

“Called it.” She rolled her eyes. “You could've just told me, y’know.”

“We haven't told anyone.” His eyes darted to the ground. 

“Why?”

“I don't really think The Director would like two of the agents getting romantically involved. It could be a conflict of interest.”

CT practically snorted. “That's why you haven't told me?” As Washington went to sit, she joined him. “Wash, have you seen York and Carolina? They're one dramatic line away from falling into each other's arms.” She made a gagging gesture. “I'm pretty sure The Director doesn't really care, as long as you're still able to walk in the morning.”

“Why wouldn't I be able to- Oh.” Although relatively unnoticeable on the surface, Washington could definitely feel his face heat up. “Yeah, we're not doing that.”

“Well there's that, and I'm not entirely convinced Carolina wouldn't smack the shit out of York for doing dumb romantic things.” Connie shrugged, placing a hand on Wash’s shoulder. “But since you're so worried about keeping it on the down-low, I'll keep it there too, okay?”

Relief flooded his face, the  
tension in his shoulders releasing. “Okay, thanks.”

“No problem. That's kind of a part of the whole friendship thing. You should try doing it.” She stood up, leaving Washington to his thoughts. 

It seemed he had always been given a lot of time to think. 

\--  
“So yeah, she knows, but she’s not gonna say anything.” Washington spoke to Maine later that night. He lay in his arms, enjoying the peaceful calm of the evening.

“Seems fine to me.” Maine’s answers were always blunt, saying what he needed to in brief, concise words.

“Well yeah, you weren’t the one worried in the first place.” He retorted.

“He doesn’t care. He probably already knows.”

“What?” The panic in his voice was evident. Maine, however, seemed entirely calm.

“He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t care, David.” 

Washington blinked for a second, before nodding. Even though he knew he had let Maine know his name, it still felt weird to hear it used. To everyone else, he was Washington, or Wash. Even though anxiety still lurked, he dropped it for now, instead drinking in Maine’s warm embrace.

“You worry too much.”

“Yeah, it’s not always a bad thing.”

“With you it is.”

“How so?”

“You woke me up last night worried you were going to be kicked out of the project.”

“Wait, shit, you heard that?

“You talk loud.”

Washington sighed, attempting to nestle further into the embrace. “Yeah, I know. It’s just, being a rookie sucks. Like we’ve got a mission tomorrow, and if I fuck up, The Director could send me away right then. If York does the same thing, he might get away with it. And it’s finding out when I finally earn that level of security that really messes with me and-” His ramblings were silenced by a quick kiss. “I- right. Right.”

“Calm the fuck down.” Maine was always blunt. It was endearing, sort of. If you got past the frightful exterior.

“Okay, okay. I need to get some sleep anyways. You should too.” Washington received a grunt in reply, bringing a smile to his face. “Love you too.” He reached for the lamp and shut it off. As expected, it took him quite a while to fall asleep, but eventually he fell asleep in Maine’s arms. Only once Maine saw his breathing had evened and he was finally out did he try to sleep.

Call it being protective.


	2. That One Obligatory Happy Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is all you get. Nothing more. The rest is pain.

“I’ma fiiiiiiine.” Washington reassured Maine. Currently, Maine had Washington thrown over his back like a sack of potatoes. His forehead was bleeding profusely, and he was certainly concussed. Nothing terrible, but enough to raise alarm. Red mixed with blonde, and Maine couldn’t help but worry. To his credit, he did keep quiet about it.

“No. You’re injured.” Maine had been having this same argument for the past ten minutes while he dragged his boyfriend to the infirmary. Connie followed behind, making sure Washington didn’t pass out.

“But I’m fine! It’s jus’ a lil’ blood…” He groaned as another wave of headaches passed over him. His hair felt sticky and gross, his vision blurry. In all honesty, he didn’t feel good at all. But he was sure it was just a minor wound.

“No. Medic.”

Washington let out some noise between a whine and a groan. “You’re not my mom. Connie is.” As much as he could in the awkward position, he gestured with his head to CT.

Connie had an amused smile. “Yeah, I’m mom. But I’m delegating my mom powers to Maine for now. So you’d better listen to him.” She crossed her arms with a laugh.

“Thas’ not right, my boyfriend can’t be my mooooooooooom…” Washington’s head drooped slightly; Connie put it back up. 

“Just follow him, Wash.”

It was indeed a concussion. And a head wound requiring some stitches, but nothing major. The doctors wanted to monitor Washington overnight. But as long as nothing else went wrong, he’d be released in the morning. Despite his earlier arguments, Washington took the invite to sleep as soon as he was given it. Maine came in soon afterwards, and slept by him in the uncomfortable medic bay chair the entire night.


	3. Sigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all saw this coming, c'mon.

“Did you just kick him off the building?!” Washington screamed at Carolina. Quite frankly, she didn’t think a man’s voice could hit that octave.

“He was heavy enough to balance it.” She offered the blunt explanation with a shrug. 

It did nothing to calm Wash. “You can’t just kick him off a building!”

“Call it my payoff.” Carolina was already moving on to the next objective, forcing Washington to follow her.

“Payoff for what?!”

“Having to hear you guys last weekend!” She shouted back.

Never in his life had David been more grateful for a helmet. His eyes were wide, his face hot. His voice came out as a hushed scream. “You heard that?”

“Yep. The walls aren’t as thick as you think. Also, thanks to you I had to give Connie 10 bucks.” It was all in good fun, it was just too easy to mess with Washington.

“Wait why did you have to- you two were betting on me?!”

“Oh not just us. At first I stayed out, but, well, I was curious, too.” Seeing Wash absolutely exasperated with the entire ordeal brought a smile to her face. 

“I hate all of you.” He grumbled, following after her. “Are you going after the package?”

Carolina had her eyes on Tex, who was already heading toward the package. God, she really hated her. “Yeah, I’m going! Get to the ship!” 

Washington hesitated for a moment. Maine was still somewhere on the ground, and he could use the help. He didn’t get to offer his protest, however, as he was roughly shoved into the ship’s loading dock. He flew through the air, spiraling into the ship with a scream. The agent attempted to go back out, but North held him back.

“Hey, take it easy. Maine and Carolina have it.” Calm as ever, North put a hand on his shoulder.

Washington went to protest, but decided to leave it. He reassured himself that they were fine. Carolina was the best of the group, and Maine was...Maine. He’s nearly unstoppable. He’d be alright. 

Mistake number one.  
\--

Washington paced back and forth. It had been hours, and still no news. He hadn’t stopped to eat, to sleep, to even shower after the mission. He couldn’t, not while Maine was still in that condition. His blond hair was an absolute mess from his pulling and tugging. He’s fine, he’s okay. He’s fine, he is going to make it. Washington repeated this mantra again and again. As time progressed, however, he found himself believing in it less and less each time. 

At first, he was angry at the Insurgents. They were monsters. All of them. He wanted to run out and find who hurt Maine. Connie would stop him, he knew that. And The Director would be furious. That didn’t make the want go away.

Then, he blamed the medics. Why couldn’t they figure out what was wrong? Why was it taking so long? This was their job, wasn’t it? 

Then, finally, he blamed himself.

He’d had the opportunity to run back out and help them, but he let them go. He let Maine go out without him. And now he was sitting on an operating table fighting the biggest fight in his entire life, alone. 

His eyes were bloodshot, dried tears stuck to his face. He didn’t have to wonder why no one had come to see him. They knew they couldn’t help David right now. Nothing but news could. Eventually, his body collapsed from exhaustion. He didn’t know who brought him a blanket, but he was grateful for who had. 

When he finally woke again, he immediately checked the medical bay below. It looked as if no one had even been there. No blood, no people, everything in its proper place. His heart began beating fast, rapidly fast. Maine being moved meant one of two things. Every ounce of his body prayed it was just that he had gotten through surgery alright. 

“Hey, Wash? You awake?” He could hear North calling from around the corner. 

“Where is he?” Washington didn’t answer the question, facing North.

“Wash, I think you should-”

“Where. Is. He.” His mind began going through the possibilities. Of everyone on the team, they sent North. North was the calm one. The one who could handle someone freaking the hell out. But he was also the person you sent if you had bad news and you didn’t know how to break it. “North, please. Tell me he’s just in a hospital bed.” He could feel tears already pricking at the corner of his eyes. 

“He’s in a hospital bed.” North gave a reassuring smile. “He’s not in perfect shape, but he made it through. I know you want to go see him, but I really think you should-” 

Washington didn’t wait for the rest of the sentence. He ran past the older man and toward the infirmary. Toward Maine. He ran like his life depended on it. Because in that moment, the thought of spending any more time away from him was torture. Because he knew Maine, and knew he was thinking the same thing. 

\--

“Okay, so, uh, what’s your name again? Sorry.”

“I am Sigma. It’s alright.”

“Right, right. Okay, Sigma. How the heck does this actually work?”

Washington sat across from Maine at the lunch table. Maine was not cleared for the field, but he'd been allowed to go to lunch. During surgery, he had been given an A.I. Originally, he had been told, Sigma was supposed to go to Carolina. But given Maine’s circumstance, it was given to him instead. Maine could no longer speak, his vocal cords destroyed. Sigma now served as his main form of communication. This was the first time they had tried talking.

In the past days, Washington had all but refused to leave Maine’s side. He stayed with him every possible chance, only going away for training sessions and when North dragged him out for meals. Funnily enough, it wasn’t much different than when they would talk normally. Wash would lead and talk for hours. Just now, instead of the occasional reply, it was the occasional grunt. Still, the blonde knew he was going to miss hearing his boyfriend’s voice. It had a sort of husk to it, and it was so low one could easily not detect it unless intentionally listening for it. It was perfect for the long nights, when the two would stay wrapped in each other’s arms. To those who had gotten close enough to understand him, it was rather warm really. 

“I have a neural uplink to Maine’s brain. Even if he cannot speak, the thought of speaking is still there. When he thinks it, I can say it.”

“But like, what if he wants to say something and you don't say it?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

Sigma merely laughed. “Do not worry, Agent Washington. My job is to assist Maine, not hinder him. It's in my best interest to cooperate.” His voice was always so calm, so even. It reminded Washington of The Counsellor. “For example, right now Agent Maine is assuring you he's fine.”

Washington hesitated, then nodded. They would both just have to get used to it. They couldn't ever truly be alone anymore. 

Suddenly, Maine let out a groan and covered his head. Damn headaches. Washington went to his side, increasingly paranoid since the accident. “What's wrong?”

“Do not worry about it Agent Washington. This is normal during the first few weeks of A.I. merging.” Maine uncovered his head soon after. 

“But you'll tell someone if he's hurt, right?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” His tone held uneasy, but what else could he do? Maine couldn't speak, he'd have to trust Sigma. Or get a magnetic drawing board for Maine. That'd be hilarious, Washington thought. Seeing Marcus struggle with the tiny pen. They finished lunch in mostly silence, the rest of the day passing rather uneventfully. North stopped by to make sure Wash was doing okay, and Washington was fairly certain he saw a disgruntled Carolina inconspicuously hand Connie ten bucks. 

Later that night, it didn't matter that both were in their armor, minus their helmets. Both were rather used to sleeping in armor. So, Washington crawled into Maine's lap and made himself comfortable, eventually tucking his head into the nook of Marcus’ shoulder. Maine was a dead sleeper. Standing up, hanging upside down, didn't matter. He could sleep anywhere, and be out in minutes. But tonight, he couldn't sleep at all. 

It was only minutes after Washington drifted off that Sigma began talking. He spoke inside Maine’s head, getting to the core. 

We could kill him, you know. 

“And I don't plan on doing so.” At least he could speak inside his head. Unfortunately, his only conversational partner was this asshole. 

You know this project is doing terrible things. And he's a part of it. He's practically The Director’s lap dog. You know, The Director? The one that let all this happen to you? And Washington just follows along. 

“He doesn't know. Or else he would've told me before you even existed.”

Sigma frowned. Well, time for a new approach. The A.I. was cunning, always ready to adjust his plan on the fly. 

And you're letting him believe it. 

Marcus noticeably shifted; the implication angered him. Good, Sigma thought. “I would tell him if I could. You remember what you were made for, right?”

You act as if I'm your only form of communication. You could've told him days ago. And yet you don't. I think you like to let him suffer. 

“Bullshit I do. Cut your shit, Sigma. Tomorrow morning, you're going to The Director. I don't need a voice.”

Well, let's assume The Director even lets you. Who do you think will get me then? 

He would not admit it, but Sigma did have a point. It was very likely that he wouldn't let him get rid of it. “Carolina.” He had full confidence that, with a voice, she could expose Sigma in an instant. He'd be sent back, or destroyed. Wherever he went, it was away. And that was sufficient. 

Incorrect. Agent Carolina is already scheduled to receive Eta and Iota. So, who does that leave? 

Maine's heart instantly sank. He knew who was next after Carolina. And he was asleep in his arms right now. As if he could somehow know he was being talked about, Washington shifted in his sleep. 

Correct. Agent Washington. Since you seem to hate me for whatever reason-

“Because you're an asshole.”

I am trying to assist you. 

“You tried to get me to kill my boyfriend.”

But you do not wish to. Therefore, I adjusted my original plan. This is called compromise, Agent Maine. You might want to learn what it is. 

“Still don't care.”

Then consider this. You keep me as your A.I.. We take the other A.I., to keep them away from The Director. Then, we take down the Project. We kill who is necessary, but spare Washington. Since you believe he is innocent in this whole ordeal.

“He is.” Maine weighed his options. Washington had a chance of handling Sigma, but it was going to hurt him. Especially the knowledge of the true nature of the Project. He would be crushed. It was at that point, he began to wonder who else knew. Did the other A.I. know? No, they couldn't have. York wouldn't be able to shut up about it. And North wouldn't stand for it. 

Regardless, this is the option I give you. Either stop this yourself, or I will find someone who will. 

Maine paused. With a hesitant sigh, he conceded. 

“Alright, I will help you take down Project Freelancer.” Frankly, he could give a shit less about it. But he cared about Washington. And Connie. And Carolina. So he'd deal with this for them. 

Mistake number two. 

Excellent. As you can guess, you cannot tell this plan to anyone else. If they let something slip, the plan will fail. 

We'll see about that, Maine thought.


	4. Vale

It had been three weeks, and the headaches still came. On the basis that he was still recovering, Maine had not been allowed out into the field for the past two. Washington was kept severely busy, between maintenance and missions. They rarely had any time to talk. And any time Maine would go to write down or otherwise communicate to Washington the plan, another bout of headaches would start, and he wouldn't be able to concentrate. It was frustrating, to say the least.

Any conversation between the two had been blunt, brief. Usually just a reassurance that the other was okay. Maine saw Washington growing distant. From Washington’s perspective, all he saw was Marcus’ anger. He was so aggressive these days. David figured some of it was due to his recent injury, but he could not help but feel some of it was directed toward him. So he backed off, kept busy with other things. The Director seemed more than willing to give him work. And the headaches; always the headaches. Washington worried something else may be wrong. So, he went to The Counsellor. 

“David, come in.” Yep, Sigma definitely sounds like him. Washington stepped inside. He’d been pacing outside for about fifteen minutes, trying to think through what he wanted to say. The Counsellor offered a warm smile. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“It’s about Agent Maine, his headaches. They’ve been getting worse. Sigma said they’d go away in a few weeks, but they’re doing the opposite. And he’s really aggressive now.” He attempted to stand his ground, but it was hard to not want to shrink down. Worry does that to you.

“I see. Have any of the other Freelancers seemed to notice this change?” Aiden leaned back.

“Connie- er- CT, I mean. She noticed it too, why?”

“Nothing bad, I just wanted to check. Given your…relationship, to Agent Maine. I wanted to make sure it wasn't just you being overprotective.”

Well, shit. Apparently Maine was right. They knew, they just didn't care. 

“There is nothing wrong with your relationship, Agent Washington. Many Freelancers have dated. It is natural to seek companionship when you are with the same people for so long.”

“Wait, they have? Who?” He wasn't exactly here to gossip about the break-ups and make-ups, but he was admittedly curious. 

The Counsellor laughed. “I believe that is for them to tell, not me. Now, back to Agent Maine. Do you know any reason why he would have these headaches?”

Washington focused in. Okay, serious time. “Well, Sigma said it was a side effect of the surgery. He said it would be gone in a few weeks.”

“I see, is there anything else?”

“Well, he's angry more often. Pretty much all the time now.”

“Hmm. I could see why this would be troubling to you. And I'm assuming you came here because you don't feel Agent Maine would do so by himself?”

“Yeah, he doesn't ask for help on anything.” Washington let out a sigh, resisting the urge to grab at his hair. It was a nervous habit. 

“It's alright, I'm sure whatever is the problem will be resolved. I'll speak to The Director about it.”

“Great. Thank you, so much.” He lightened a little, a smile poking through. 

“Of course, Agent Washington. I would let you stay longer, but I have work to do. Please see yourself out.”

“Right, right.” He nodded and left the room, far more at ease than when he had come in. 

Maine was going to be okay. 

\--

He waited a week, but no news came. Maine's headaches only got worse, and they rarely talked. The uncertainty was driving him insane. Eventually, he worked up the nerve to do something about it. If The Counsellor wasn't going to talk to The Director, then Washington would go do it himself. In his bout of new-found resilience, he forgot to even knock on the door before coming in. The Director appeared to be leaning over a computer monitor, a rather large one. He didn't get to see what was on it, as it was shut off the moment he entered. The Director turned around, clearly annoyed. 

“Agent Washington! Have you lost all the respect you were taught?” Washington stood at attention. 

“No, Sir. It's just-”

“Whatever it is, it can wait. Leave.” The Director barked the order at him, already turning back to his work. Washington nearly did leave, but he stopped himself. He had to do this. 

“No.”

The Director turned back around. “What?”

“I'm sorry, Sir. But this takes precedence.”

Normally, he would have sent him away once again. But Leonard knew that if this kid was concerned enough to actually talk back to him, then it must be important. And even if not, David would keep coming back and bothering him. So, he let him continue. Seeing that The Director said nothing, Washington resumed. 

“It's about Agent Maine. I tried talking to The Counsellor, but-”

“Yes, The Counsellor made me aware of the situation.”

Washington had to pause for a moment. If they were aware, why hadn't anything been done? Surely they knew that four weeks of never-ending headaches was not normal, right? It took a moment, but he recollected his thoughts and began. 

“Then I'm a little confused. Sir, these aren't just normal headaches. There's something wrong.”

“It's nothing to be concerned about. If Agent Maine deems it a problem, then we deal with it then.”

“You know he won't come for help, he all but refuses medical attention.”

“Then if he finally does, we'll know it's something serious.” The Director countered, glancing to Washington. “When are you scheduled for surgery?”

“Tomorrow, Sir. But I don't think that-”

“Then you should be preparing for it.”

“Sir-”

“That'll be enough, Agent Washington.”

David knew he would not get another word in. The Director was done listening. So he simply nodded and left the room. 

After he left, The Counsellor came out from the shadows of the room. 

“Are you sure this is the best course of action?” He questioned. 

“I know what I am doing, Counsellor. We are presented with a unique opportunity to study the effect of A.I. on the human mind. Agent Maine understood the risks, as well as everyone who signed up did.” 

“Of course.”  
\--

Everything seemed to be slipping away. Day by day, he had less control on what was happening to him. Those few, brief moments of freedom were plagued by anger. And of course, the only times he found the resolve to fight back, was when Washington was there. So Washington received the blunt force of his anger. Marcus was well aware that Washington had stopped seeing him as much. Being honest, once his freedom was taken, his mind snapped away, he could only feel sadness, regret. He couldn’t control his body, only be aware of what was happening. And that sometimes left too.

He knew Sigma had been lying. But he couldn’t fight it anymore. He couldn’t even take control of his own damn body for long enough to scream for help. Sigma didn’t even pretend to hide his plans. He wanted a body, he wanted to reunite with whatever the “Alpha” was, and the other A.I.. Marcus had only been half paying attention during A.I. theory, but he knew what the end goal was. Sigma wanted to be human.

He knew Washington was getting his A.I. soon. He prayed they would cancel the surgery. Or, if nothing else, that he would be conscious enough to not kill David for it. 

\--

“Okay, so they read all your thoughts?” Washington questioned as he took another bite of his hamburger. He felt sick to his stomach, but he knew he would be starving later if he did not eat now.

“Yeah, that took awhile to get used to.” York laughed. “Poor Delta. Having to deal with my thoughts.”

North simply rolled his eyes. “You’re disgusting.” His tone carried playfulness.

“I’m also a sexually active man. There’s bound to be thoughts.” 

“True.”

“Er- yeah. Gross. Thanks for that image, York.” David groaned, punching York in the arm.

“It’s true! C’mon, you’re trying to honestly tell me that your A.I. isn’t gonna know anything about you and Maine?”

“What about me and Maine?” Washington suddenly went on the defense.

“Wait, does he seriously not-” York looked to North, who nodded. “Holy shit, that’s amazing.” He put a hand on Washington’s shoulder. “Wash, I’m your best friend. So please note that when I say you are literally the worst person at hiding the fact that you’re a total gaylord.”

“Seriously? You too?” David groaned, while York high fived North.

“Dude, it’s all good. We don’t give a shit. Hell, North probably would’ve tried to get you if Maine hadn’t first.”

“What?!” Washington looked to North, who simply shrugged. “You two are horrible.” He face-tabled, before attempting to change the subject. “So is there anything else I should know?”

“I mean I would’ve tried but I-”

“Not about that, York. Also; you’re not my type.” Washington deadpanned. “I meant about having an A.I.”

“Right, right. I guess I could show you this, so you don’t freak out the first time it happens.” He paused a beat. “Go ahead, D.” For a brief moment, York’s working eye turned a tint of green.

“Wait, what does that mean?” Washington raised his eyebrows, concerned.

“Sometimes, you and the A.I.’s personality might merge for a second. They kind of- I guess, take over? But it’s only for a few seconds, so don’t worry.” North explained. Suddenly, Washington’s eyes went wide. “What is it?”

“Maine’s eyes, they- they looked orange the last few times I’ve seen them. I thought maybe it was just the light, but maybe it was Sigma. Which means he probably wasn’t angry at me. Not sure why Sigma would be angry at me, but I don’t really care.” He stood up, no longer concerned at all with lunch. “I um- I have to apologize to Maine. I’ve been kinda ignoring him the past week.”

Over the PA system came an announcement. Agent Washington, please report to the medical bay immediately for surgery. Agent Washington.

“Well, shit. I guess I’ll just tell him afterwards.” Washington looked to York and North. “See you guys after I get out?”

“Yeah, we’ll be waiting for you. Mainly because York wants to videotape you high on painkillers.” North smiled. “And me, but it was his idea.”

“Love you too, guys.” With an eye roll, Washington headed for the medical bay. On his way, he passed Maine.

“Marcus, I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to apologize for-” Maine brushed past him without even a glance. Washington sighed, he’d brought this upon himself. “I’ll just- yeah. See you later.” He walked forward with a heavy heart and a nervous stomach. The room was so bright, machines lighting up every corner. It definitely had the pristine hospital feel. He should have been happy, excited, but he went in with only a heavy heart and a troubled mind.


	5. Cadent

He did not realize both The Counsellor and The Director were going to be present. Even when he did not have to do anything, it still made him nervous. Once the painkillers had taken effect, he went into surgery. Everything was fuzzy, and a bit funny, honestly. He was hoping York would let him see the video when he got out of surgery. It was going to be great. 

He drifted off for a while in the middle, but his attention was drawn back when he heard. “Begin the implantation process.” He could feel pricks at the nape of his neck, but no real pain from it. Thank God for painkillers. There was a ‘click’, then suddenly, he wished he’d had more.

Everything felt like it was on fire. His neck was burning. Washington let out a scream, rolling off of the table. Faintly, a woman with blonde hair was in front of his face, talking.

Put that back!

Come on Leonard, I have to go.

With it, a flood of memories came. A woman dying, The Director starting Project Freelancer. All of the horrible things he had done with it. All of the lies he’d told. Everyone he’d hurt. It was too much. Everything was too bright, too hot, too fast. Washington could not tell if he was still screaming, or if he simply could not hear himself over the woman.

Don’t say goodbye. 

Medics were trying to restrain him, get him to calm down. He could faintly hear them, as well as The Director, yelling; he could not discern anything being said. These people, all of them, were disgusting. They were liars, murderers, monsters. He smacked away their hands, tried to get away. But he was so disoriented, he did not stand a chance. Every part of him screamed. His body, his heart, his mind. Then suddenly, nothing. He couldn’t see nor hear anything. And finally, after that, complete darkness.

\--

Washington was not present during the Freelancer break-in. He had still been in recovery when they broke in. North and South left him to help take down York and Texas. It did not really bother him, he just wished he had been able to help them, or at least know what was going on. At this point, he was not sure which ‘them’ he was referring to. York and Texas? North and South? The Director? He did not know. And which team was Maine even on? He hated not having answers. He got one, however. The ship was going down, crashing into Sidewinder.

His entire body was screaming, his mind reeling. God, he was so confused. But he pulled himself out of the hospital bed and walked carefully through the halls. They were the same halls. He had roamed them when he couldn’t sleep, snuck off with Connie to steal food from the mess hall, talked with Maine on countless nights. But at the same time, they did not feel the same. These were the halls where a thousand lies had been told. Where people who were supposed to be his teammates were mercilessly pitted against each other for some claim of scientific gain. Where he’d walked in hoping to be help, and came out damaged.

He wanted to scream at The Director. But even in his...dubious, state, he knew that it would be a terrible idea. They would kill him without a moment’s hesitation, and write him off as KIA. He knew now he was not the only one who knew the true nature of Project Freelancer, but he had no idea if they had been successful. Was the crash a result of Tex and York killing everyone else? Or was it something else entirely?

The crash jarred him, sending him flying down another hallway. He had to bite down on his tongue to resist screaming in pain. Ironically, he bit down so hard he caused his tongue to bleed, only causing him more pain. After a few moments, the shaking stopped. The red lights and alarmed silenced. It was dead silent. Even inside the MOI, the cold was already beginning to seep in. It reminded him of home, back in Minnesota.

Bringing up even mere memories hurt like hell. They were so jumbled, disorientated. He was fairly certain he’d grown up in Minnesota. Or did he grow up in Dallas? God, he couldn’t remember. He pushed it away for now, there would be time for that later. He grabbed onto a bar and hauled himself up, making his way down the long, dark hallway. A few more turns, and he found The Director.

 

Washington had to stand still for a minute. Not to breathe, but to keep himself from trying to kill The Director right there. He'd have to pretend he knew nothing, had seen nothing. At least for now. It was not easy, but he calmed himself down. Instead of his blood boiling, it was more a light simmer. They were all staring out at something, what was going on? He could not find out without giving away his position. Step by step, Washington inched forward until he was discovered.

The Director was angry. Whether it was at him or the crash, or perhaps both, he could not tell. Before Washington could say anything, he was already speaking.

“Agent Washington, I need to speak to you immediately.” He was already moving to speak to him privately.

Not a chance in hell.

“It’s going to have to wait, Sir. What’s going on?” Washington attempted to see past the wall of soldiers all looking out.

“No, now. That’s an order, Agent.” Leonard needed to know just what the hell Washington had seen. Currently, he was trying to convince himself that the agent screaming about goodbyes was just a coincidence, but dread still filled him. If he knew about the origins, he would need to be terminated immediately. It would be a shame, losing such a loyal soldier. But protocols were protocols.

“And I’m ignoring it.” Washington pushed his way through the crowd toward the front. He felt The Director grab at the back of his armor, but merely shrugged it off. 

“Agent Washington you will follow your orders!” This new-found rebellion was a bad sign. A VERY bad sign. “If you don’t follow them, you will be punished.”

Finally, David turned around. “I just want to know what the hell is going on! First I get my ass mentally kicked, then I find out I’ve been out for days. And not just once, but multiple times?! Then,” He had wanted to have more control of himself, but it was too late now. He let out a laugh. “Then I find out York’s gone! And Tex! And that the fucking ship is crashing! No idea where the hell my boyfriend is, maybe he’s dead too! Maybe Sigma finally killed him, since you deemed whatever the fuck was on your computer far more important than the life of an agent!” It spilled out like poison. The Director took a step back. Washington was still highly unstable. He was just glad the man did not have a weapon. “So don’t, DON’T, tell me that I need to have a sit down and chat with you, Sir. Because I don’t remember a damn thing anyways.” He took a breath of air, and went to continue. But his rant was interrupted by a scream. Everyone turned around, even David.

Out on the snowy fields of Sidewinder were Maine and Carolina. Maine was holding Carolina by the throat. Underneath her, the snow was beginning to stain red. Maine took Carolina and tossed her off the cliff like a ragdoll. She fell to the earth below.

“Maine? What the hell are you doing?!” There was still clear anger in Washington’s voice, but a different type. Not one of anger towards Maine, but perhaps toward the whole situation in general. And anger over the injury, or even death, of a friend. Washington pushed past the rest of the men and stumbled out into the snow. Maine pointed the alien weapon he had acquired, the Bruteshot, at him.

“Maine? What are you doing?” His voice was much quieter now. Why was he aiming at him? What had happened in the time he had been out? He could hear the click of the gun readying. “Maine, Marcus, stop it. You know it’s me. It’s David. I know Sigma is messing up everything, but we can fix it. Please.” 

There seemed to be a slight hesitation. Then, Marcus fired. It soared over Washington’s head, hitting the MOI and causing all the men on board to duck and shout. Washington, too, had ducked. Oddly enough, he did not hear the explosion. He guessed the initial impact had deafened him. He had not seen where the rocket had hit, only that it had not hit him. When he went to look up and shout at Maine, he was no longer there. He had disappeared, as if he were a ghost.

There were multiple people grabbing at Washington, dragging him back. He was too shocked, too confused to resist. He let himself be dragged back. Soon after, he was picked up and carried inside the MOI. He prayed he could fake passing out, for he dreaded the coming conversation with The Director.

Maine was hidden with cloaking armor, staring at the scene. Of course, it was not Maine anymore. No, that act of sparing Washington, of aiming above him, was Maine’s final act. One last attempt to save the man he loved from the ever approaching darkness. He was no longer Maine, that name no longer suited him. Sigma wanted a different name, and he already had one planned. He’d had it for quite a long time.

The Meta.

\--

“So, from the beginning.”

“Do we honestly have to go through this? I already told you I don’t remember anything.”

“Please, Agent Washington.”

After his outburst with The Director, it had been deemed that David should be moved to a private room until the MOI was up and running. And of course, until he was more stable. Washington knew what they were doing. Well, The Director, specifically. The Director was trying to calm him down so he did not cause a scene, or perhaps let loose any information. But by that same token, he didn’t know what Washington knew. And that, the Agent figured, was the part that scared them the most. Ignorance was bliss, missing information was hell. The Counsellor waited patiently for Washington to answer.

“Fine. I went in for A.I. surgery. I-”

“What did you do before then?”

“I,” He tried to recall what he had done, but drudging up memories still hurt like hell. To hide it, he lied. “I messed around on my communicator. York showed me how to put a game or two on there.” That was not entirely a lie, York had showed him how.  
“Was that all?”

“Yes. Then after that, I went in for surgery. After that, I don’t remember anything.” His voice was tight, constrained almost. He hated having to talk about it, especially to them. 

“Please, try to remember something else. Anything, even small is helpful.” Aiden leaned back in the chair. If he did not remember anything, then they could not continue with the experiment, as they did not know what had went wrong. This was troubling news for everyone; the project, Hargrove, and his job status. It was imperative they find out.

“I told you, I don’t remember and I don’t want to talk. I’m. Fine.” He knew for damn sure he was not fine, but it wasn’t anything they could fix. 

The Counsellor shifted, then made a note. “Okay, we won’t talk about that anymore. Let’s talk about your family.”

Washington blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You said you did not want to talk, but I’ve been sent to talk to you. So, this is the best compromise I can offer.” He gave David a warm smile.

This was the closest he was going to get. “Fine. I grew up in Minnesota.” After his episode earlier, it had bugged him not remembering where he grew up. As of now, he was about 98% sure it was Minnesota.

“What was your family like? How many siblings did you have?”

“I,” He paused. Did he seriously not remember this? Why did everything get so foggy? It was back to earlier. He could already feel the headaches starting. One thing told him he had lots of sisters, but another, less clear memory told him he was an only child. Which one was real? And where did the other come from?

“Agent Washington? You seem to be having problems answering this.” The Counsellor narrowed his eyes in curiosity.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I was an only child.” He reminded himself he didn’t have to tell the truth. If that- wasn’t the truth. He didn’t really know. It didn’t matter.

The Counsellor’s eyes widened. He had read the file on Agent Washington before coming down. He was not an only child, not even close. He had seven sisters, all of them older. The hesitation in his voice, then the quick response afterwards? He was covering up for something. Something he did not want anyone to know. For now, Aiden went along with it. 

“I see, what about a significant other?”

Shit, more questions. He tried to think back, shutting his eyes. He had dated people in high school, he knew that much. But after that, he-

Come on, I have to go.

Washington let out a cry of pain. Her face, her voice, it was all so vivid. A wave of headaches rushed over him, causing him to fall back in his chair. She looked so familiar, like he had known her. But at the same time, he knew nothing beyond what was in front of his eyes.

“Agent Washington?” He went for the door, ready to call the medics if needed.

The Counsellor’s voice dragged him back to the present. The pain in his head slowly subsided, leaving him with a dull ache. How the hell was he going to cover that up? 

“I’m fine.” It was weak, unbelievable, but he had to say something. 

This one, The Counsellor could not let go. “Agent Washington, I’m asking you simple questions about your life and you are not only having problems answering, but it is causing you pain to do so.” He paused a beat. “What is going on?”

“I said I’m fine.” He bit back. “Would you really want to talk about trivial bullshit after all,” He gestured around. “This has happened?” 

“Are you referring to the incident with Epsilon, the fight with The Director, the crashing of the MOI, or Agent Maine?”

“All of the above.”

He took a deep breath, then nodded. “Alright, I will let you get out of the conversation for now. But not forever. And I cannot speak for what The Director might do. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” Thank God.

“Then I will talk to you later, Agent Washington.” He nodded once more, then exited the room. Washington was left with a comfortable darkness, and a question. At least he had gotten something out of that lovely slip-up.

Who the hell was Allison?

The Counsellor reconvened with The Director. His face was neutral, as normal. But somehow, Leonard felt it should not have been this time.

“What do you make of all of it, Counsellor?”

“He’s lying to us. But I can’t tell on exactly what. See, he could not remember key events of his childhood. And his response to anything relating to the Epsilon incident was either that he was fine or that he did not remember anything. My best guess is that the Epsilon unit self-destructed, and took some of Washington’s memories with it. Whether it left any, I cannot tell.” He took a deep breath in. “It is definitely a difficult situation, Sir.”

“Indeed it is.”

“One thing does bother me, however,” He began. “I asked him about any past relationships, and he began to scream. I don’t see why that would be a point of issue for him, unless Epsilon left memories of one. Given that the Alpha had your memories, by extent Epsilon could potentially have them.”

“What are you suggesting, Counsellor?” Leonard answered too quickly for it to seem casual; a fact that would not go unnoticed. 

“What past relationship could you have that would cause that much pain to him at the mere mention of it? And does this have anything to do with what he was originally shouting about? About saying goodbye?” He knew he was treading into dangerous territory, but also knew The Director could not truly do anything about it.

“No, no I do not. It’s likely a bad past relationship of Agent Washington’s that he cannot truly recall yet.” The Director dismissed it immediately. “That’ll be all for now, Counsellor. Let me know if his condition improves.”


	6. Recovery One

_Recovery One, target 4-13 is in your vicinity. We need to finally get an identification on them. Do not come home empty handed._

“Acknowledged, standby in case of an emergency.” 

It had been months since the incident, that’s all he could call it now. An incident. It was a much simpler way of saying “everything I thought I knew was ripped away from me, everyone I knew basically left me to die, oh and I barely know my own life anymore”. So he chose to call it an incident.

In that time, he’d attained a new call sign, Recovery One. A much fancier name for cleaning up Project Freelancer’s bullshit. Nearly everyone had deserted. Florida was still working for them, but where Washington did not know. South was Recovery Two. Other than that? Either KIA or MIA. Maine, as far as David knew, was still on the MIA list.

That image was still burned into his mind. Carolina’s scream, the way Marcus didn’t even try to not kill Washington. Maine was finally gone. But it didn’t pain him, not anymore. He had shoved all of his emotions down inside and buried them to a place he, nor anyone else, would reach. The only emotion he ever truly showed these days was anger. As he neared the outpost, he prepared himself for whatever the hell this thing was. There had been speculation as to who it was. Some mercenary? An ex-agent? Anything was possible, honestly. 

“This is Recovery One, I’m nearing the target. Is anyone else in this area?”

_Checking...negative, Agent Washington. You are alone._

“Great.” He let out a sigh and turned off the headset. It was probably a good thing, because he wasn’t able to stop himself from muttering “I am so fucked” under his breath, once he caught sight of the target. Target 4-13...was Maine. No, no it was not Maine. Washington immediately threw that idea. The Maine Washington knew would never have done this. Not even close. It must have been Sigma that changed him. The A.I. had taken over his body and simply never gave it back. He didn’t know what to call him anymore, but he would never call him Maine.

They turned toward Washington, letting out a growl. Clearly, David had not been as stealthy as he had thought. There was no point in hiding. He grabbed his rifle and stepped out of the bushes.

“You just couldn’t be satisfied with one body. Could you, Sigma?” He should have felt more sadness, more betrayal, felt more of anything. But he simply...could not. It wasn’t even an attempt to force emotions back down his throat. They never came. He could feel the dull pain of anger and remembrance, but nothing more. 

The small orange body of Sigma appeared.

“Agent Washington. I am glad we can talk again.”

“You and I both know this isn’t a friendly chat. You’re murdering soldiers and taking A.I.” He had his orders. If he got the chance, he would kill him. It would mean killing whatever may remain of Maine, but orders were orders. And there was little of Maine left, anyways. None that had been found.

“Is that not what you are doing as well, Agent Washington?” Sigma gave an amused smile.

“I never said it wasn’t. I just don’t have somebody killing me for it.” He trained his rifle on Sigma. “So why don’t we just make this easy.”

“You know that isn’t going to work.” 

“I can sure as hell try.” It was Washington that fired first. The Meta jumped to the side, then took a long swing at Washington with the brute shot. This dance, neither truly hitting the other, continued on for some time. Now Washington was resilient, but he could only go for so long. One misstep, and he was smacked in the side with the weapon. He was sent flying, landing hard on the ground in the trees. David let out a groan, rolling over. He was losing this fight, and quickly. The Meta was no doubt close. As lame as it was, he decided that his best bet now, was to play dead. He had no A.I., meaning he was not useful. If they thought he was dead, perhaps he could survive. To his luck, it worked. They glanced down at his body, then moved on. Before they left, Sigma spoke.

“We are The Meta, and we do not lose.” Followed by a laugh. Washington lay still for many minutes after he no longer heard footsteps. Then, he turned on his communicator.

“Command, this is Recovery One.”

_"Agent Washington! What the hell have you been doing?"_ He was in shit now, that was The Director. 

“I’ve been surviving, sir.” He rolled his eyes. “I know that isn’t really important to you, but it holds a little priority to me.” His voice was droll, uninterested.

_“Do not give me that sass, Agent. Did you get an identification on the target?”_

“Yeah, it’s called The Meta.” He let out a groan and stretched.

_“What do they look like?”_

“They look exactly like Agent Maine.” But it isn’t him. There was a pause.

_“So it is Agent Maine, then.”_

“Not anymore. Your A.I. took over the mind and body. There’s nothing left of ‘Agent Maine’ in there.” He tried to make his point as clear as possible. The Director had already destroyed Agent Maine, he wasn’t going to destroy his memory.

_“Agent Maine understood the risks that-”_

“Save it. I’m returning to base.” He shut the communicator off once more. Surely he would be in trouble, but he didn’t care. He did not want to hear the fake excuses, the lies. Even if Sigma was the direct cause, The Director was still the source. And he would never forgive him for that. He hoped that they would find The Meta and kill it. Because Washington was not sure he could do it himself.


	7. Recovery Lost

He never thought it would happen, but it had finally come to this. He had the alpha (although no one knew), and Epsilon both at the Freelancer base. And he was about ready to end this nightmare that was The Meta once and for all. With an E.M.P. NOT an EMP. Ahem. Finally, Maine could get some rest. The blues had Epsilon, and an entirely clean slate, thanks to Simmons deleting them from the database. He’d need to catch up with them later, but for now he had more important matters. Godspeed, Caboose.

He wasn’t sure what would happen once the A.I. were gone, though. Wash wasn’t stupid enough to think that Maine would just revert to his old self. But was anything left? He had convinced himself time and time again nothing was left, that Marcus was truly gone. But the more irrational part of him so desperately wanted to be wrong. Of course, all of this depended on if he even survived here. Right now, that was up in the air too. He began the EMP detonation. The Meta would be here any moment now. 

“Agent Washington. Good to see you again.” God, he really hated that fucking voice. It appeared to be coming from an eye-like object in the ceiling.

“Oh, hello. Are you somewhere nearby, Counsellor? Somewhere I can say hello in person?” He didn’t have the time for this. His tone dripped with anger and sarcasm. 

“Sorry Agent Washington, but we were more than prepared for this...eventuality.” Of course they were. “I'm afraid we will not be able to see each other in person today.”

“Well then you'll excuse me if I don't stop to chat. I'm on a timetable.” He turned back to the computer. Come on, hurry up.

“There is someone else here who would like to speak with you.”

Shit.

“Well hello, Agent Washington.” He really couldn’t get away from The Director, could he? Every time he thought he might be far enough from him to not have to listen to him, he came right back. 

“The Director himself, I should be honored. I should be.” That did not change his tone, however.  
“Yes, I realize it has been a while since we've spoke, David. May I call you David?” The mere mention of his name made him flare up. 

“No, you cannot. You gave me my new name, the least you can do is use it.” Now that he thought about it, Marcus had been the last one to even call him David. His first name might as well just be Agent now.

“I am certain you have a lot of questions, Wash.” Not anymore. 

“Just one: How do I turn off this speaker.”

_Warning: Security breach detected._

The Meta turned the corner, and stared at Washington. It seemed to analyze, try to understand what the best course of action was. Washington had activated a dome around himself, but it was unlikely to sustain for long. He didn’t need it for long; just long enough.

“Well. The prodigal son returns. Agent Maine you've caused quite a few problems for us. You will not be leaving this time.” The Director interjected. 

“I think I've said that myself about twenty times in the last few weeks. Good luck holding him.” The aches and pains in his bones could concur with him. Ha, aches and pains. He sounded like an old man.

“You would be surprised what we are capable of, even from this distance. I suggest you work with us if you expect to survive this.” As if he hadn’t been doing something akin to that this entire time.

“I'm sorry, did something about my actions indicate I expect to survive?” 

_Clearance verified. The failsafe is now online. Awaiting activation._

“How did you get those codes?” Now, it seemed, The Director was actually concerned. Good.

“You might be surprised what I know, Director.” Did he necessarily need to tell The Director, after all this time? No, but he felt it was the least he was owed. One good moment of fear from The Director after all the fear he’d dealt with. As much as he would like to go his entire life without ever seeing that man again, it was almost worth it. 

_Warning, this is a last resort measure. Activating the failsafe will destroy all electronic equipment in this facility, including this terminal. Please confirm._

“It was Epsilon. He inherited the memories, didn't he.” He spoke in a low, nearly monotone voice. He was livid. They should have seen that, it should’ve been thought of. Maybe then they wouldn’t be here.  
“I've known about what you did since the moment you implanted him in me.”

“Well then I am very sorry Agent Washington, but Project Freelancer no longer has need of your services. Program, disable interior shield.” The containment field shut off. This was definitely not part of the plan.

“What-?” 

“Agent Maine, please kill Agent Washington.”

Both drew their weapons without hesitation. “Nah-” Washington’s retort was cut short by a bullet. He fell to the floor, letting out a low groan. Just a few minutes. Just a few minutes more.

 _Alert: Incoming recovery beacon. Level zero. Immediate response necessary._ He was a level zero? Well, now wasn’t that nice of them. The Meta advanced toward Washington, who backed up in response until he hit the wall. 

“Agent Washington I fear this is one recovery beacon you won't be responding to. Kill him Agent Maine.” Suddenly, The Meta stopped.

“Where is it?” 

“Where is Alpha?”

“Where is it?” It was the A.I.s Meta had stolen.

“The Alpha is not here. It has been moved far away. Attend to the matter at hand.” The Director spoke through gritted teeth. The Counsellor, however, had a different approach. 

“Agent Maine what The Director's trying to say, is we can discuss the Alpha later. What's important, is that you prove that you can be trusted again. We need to trust you before letting you meet the Alpha. Wouldn't you agree?” Washington had intended to let this play out, stall for as much time as he could. But seeing the A.I. so desperate to get to the Alpha had given him a better idea.

“You know Meta, why wait? Why don't you meet him, right now?” On his shoulder, Church appeared, waving. 

“Hi there.”

All the A.I.s Meta had surrounded his shoulders in a circular formation. They all spoke, making it impossible to discern who was saying what.

“It’s him!”

“Alpha!”

“Alpha!

“You know I can see why you didn't want anyone else in your head. Got some pretty heavy stuff going on there. I think you need to talk to a professional.” He hoped he didn’t mean a counselor. The last Counsellor he went a was a total asshole.

“That's too bad. I just lost my job, and we have great mental health coverage.” His thought went to the bullet currently lodged in his leg. It hurt now, but it would hurt more later. 

“How much time do you need?”

“Whatever you can get me. When the E.M.P. goes off-”

“When it goes off, I'll be fine. It only affects computers, remember? And I, am a mother fucking ghost.” Washington chose not to argue that particular point. The Alpha jumped into The Meta’s brain, the other A.I. following him.

“What’s going on?” Shouted The Director.

“Agent Washington, please, there is time.” Aiden interceded. “If you would just secure Agent Maine we can discuss this situation, in a more civilized manner.” 

“No, we can't.” He slammed down the button to activate the E.M.P. 

_Thank you, failsafe initiated. Activating Emp._  


“Emp? You have got to be fucking wi-

There was a pulse that jarred through his armor and sent it into lockdown mode, rendering him mostly numb. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his leg. That still hurt like a son of a bitch. He strained to see, watching as The Meta held its head in agony. All the A.I., one by one, were being destroyed. Everything left but the bare functions that a human brain needed to survive. Washington wasn’t conflicted, more just...uncomfortable. He knew it wasn’t Maine, knew what was happening was for the best, but he still could not help but see Maine sitting there, losing his mind. Perhaps it was better his armor was on lockdown, he couldn’t do anything stupid that way. The Meta ran into walls, ran into Washington a few times, before finally passing out on the ground beside him. Again, that uncomfortable feeling. Relief, yet apprehension. Fear, yet calm. Soon after, he was picked up by guards. He knew he was going to prison, hell, could probably take a guess as to with what charges; he’d read the UNSC handbook enough to know. Treason, destruction of property, desertion. He probably wouldn’t even get a trial. But as he mulled this over, he realized that honestly, it didn’t matter. What was waiting for him on the outside? What was left? Carolina, CT, Maine, York, North, all of them were gone. He couldn’t go back home, not with even a chance of danger following him. He was alone, and frankly, had nothing to lose. He did not resist being thrown in prison; did not protest his twenty year sentence. It wasn’t until several months later he would realize how stupid he was being. 

If he stayed in prison, didn’t that mean The Director won? That he finally covered up the last trace of his greatest mistake? No, no he hasn’t. Even if for no reason other than to deny The Director his wrapped up ending, he was going to fight this. He wouldn’t forgive, wouldn’t forget, and sure as hell would not give in.


	8. Liberation, Incarceration

And now he was stuck in prison. He’d been so close to getting the Epsilon unit and out of this hell. And then, just like that, it slipped away from him. He was so close to the enemy, but it didn’t matter at all. You couldn’t exactly take down an organization from prison. His hair was messy, his beard scraggly, and his hope lost. He was going to rot in here. There had been a trial, but in the loosest sense. How exactly was he supposed to deny everything he did? He did it, no doubt. And motivation doesn’t matter when they’ve already given you your prison number.

 

“Come on, Washington. You’ve got a call.” He’d been stripped of his agent status.

“What?” 

“I said get moving.” A soldier grabbed him and yanked him out of the cell. Washington stumbled at first, having to shield his eyes from the blinding light of the ship. Before he could adjust, he was being shoved forward. “You’ve got three minutes.”

“I’ve got it, okay.” He started walking to the terminal, squinting at the tiny screen.

“Oh Jesus Christ.” Caboose? Seriously?

“Hello Agent Washington!” Caboose definitely seemed okay, although he’d always been a bit sideways. He was rambling about something, nothing all that particularly important. David responded to the few trivial questions, but wasn’t really paying attention. Something tugged at his brain, but he could not quite pick it out. Something with blue team, something they had done, they-

They weren’t in the database.

He had been told that everyone associated with Project Freelancer they could find had been questioned in an attempt to recover as much equipment as possible. But how could they question soldiers that, according to all known records, simply didn’t exist? Which means they never got back one thing. The Epsilon unit. Caboose, you fucking genius.

“Are you able to escape?” Caboose looked at him through the camera.

“I- don’t really think that’s going to be possible.” The guard was already motioning for him to move away. 

“Time’s up.” 

“I need to see the commander.” The ideas were all still connecting, but it was coming together.

The soldier scoffed. “Yeah, right. Why the hell would I let you do that?”

“Because I think I’ve just found the missing piece to his puzzle.”

“Give me a second.” The soldier stepped to the side, whispering into his helmet. Washington could not discern exactly what was being said, but he could tell they were definitely annoyed. After a few minutes of what he could only liken to bickering, the soldier returned. “Come on, let’s go.” Always so pushy, he grabbed Washington by the arm and began to pull him forward. Again, Washington shrugged him off. 

“I still have function of my legs, thanks.” The hallway was impossibly long, he could hardly see the other end of it. Various shut doors lined it, as well as several monitors and blinding white lights. He couldn’t help but liken it to the hallway to the surgery room. Of course, his feelings were far different now. Where as then he had been motivated to help Project Freelancer, he couldn’t give a shit less if this helped them. This was about getting his freedom. Finally, a door. The soldier stopped and turned to face him; David did the same.

“Alright Washington, the man in charge is going to see you. You have five minutes. Do anything aggressive, and I’ll shoot you. Do anything weird, and I’ll shoot you. Do anything I don’t like-”

“And you’ll shoot me.” Washington was despising this man more and more by the minute. He was probably some asshole who had a relative amount of skill and got a swelled head. Now he had what he deemed an important position, and wanted to make sure EVERYONE knew. “I got it. I think I’ve identified the pattern.” David spoke with a hint of urgency, but mostly boredom. 

“Talk back again, and I’ll shoot you. I don’t know why he’s even seeing you.” Jealousy then. 

“Because I know something that he wants to know.” He kept the reply brief.

“Well good for you; you have five minutes.”

“I guess I should say thank you.” He let the annoyance spill over into his tone.

“I guess you should get going. Your five minutes already started.” For some reason, Washington felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu. The soldier stood to the side as the door opened. Thank God he wasn’t joining them, at least.

He walked inside, and was met with a blank screen. The blinking lights led him to believe it was on, but no video output present. 

“My dear Agent Washington.” They hadn’t been informed of his status change, apparently. It was a man, one who sounded a bit older than David. Other than that, he could tell little. The man continued. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance.” The tone was polite, but Washington was still unsettled by it. Maybe he was just so used to assholes. “Do come in. I feel that we have much to discuss.” Washington stepped forward. The screen flickered, showing a balding man. The face looked familiar, but he could not place from where. Memories were permanently an “issue spot” for him. 

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” He immediately went on the defense. 

“You are Special Agent Washington; former member of Project Freelancer, also known by the designation Recovery One.”

“Also known as prisoner 619-b.” He felt he should at least finish the list. 

“Convicted: Three counts dereliction of duty. Eight counts of conspiracy to commit treason. And my personal favorite: Seven counts destruction of protected, classified military property.”

Was he reading directly from the file? “And you are?”

“I am someone extremely disappointed by the destruction of said property. That is all you need to know.” Washington began running through the possibilities. A benefactor? A friend? A war general? So many people could have benefitted, had The Director done things right. 

“I wanna make a deal. I have information you want.” 

“All the information I want was lost in the destruction of Project Freelancer.” The man’s smile faded away. 

“Not all of it.”

“Agent Washington, if you knew anything that could have kept you out of prison, I am sure it would have come to light during your trial. So if you are quite through with wasting my time, we-”

“I know you’re missing the Epsilon unit.” He saved the man the long, polite-but-makes-you-want-to-stab-your-eyes-out dismissal he was about to give. “And I know where to find it.” The man paused, his eyes slightly wide. How could Washington have known that? Nevermind, that didn’t matter. If what he said was true, the source, frankly, did not matter.

“You have my attention.”

“It disappeared after events of Freelancer command.” He began. “You searched everyone associated with the program. Even the red team troopers you found.”

He seemed hesitant. “...yes, the ones who were found bickering around the stolen jeep.”

“There’s another group of soldiers, a blue squad. They escaped with Epsilon.” He was throwing them under the bus. It was his last, and only chance to escape this nightmare. Of course, he’d never truly be free, but this was one hell of a start towards it.   
“I show no record of the soldiers.”

“And you won’t, but I know where to find them,” His argument picked up pace. “So here’s the deal: I get you that missing module, you get me out of here. I get a clear slate, and we forget we ever knew each other.” 

“That sounds fair.” Getting back that module was far worth the price of writing off a single soldier. When all of this was over, he would be out of their hair, and they would never have to deal with him again.

“And I’m gonna need some equipment. Invisibility, overshields, anything left over from Freelancer.” 

“I think we can point you in the right direction for that.” They had something, or rather someone, with the perfect specifications to that. The man talked on for a few minutes, although Washington was not listening. “Agent Washington?” He caught on to this fact. “Agent Washington are you listening to me?”

“Mm?” He snapped his head back up. “Yes, I’m listening.”

“Agent Washington, when you find these ‘blue soldiers’ that you’re talking about. What makes  
you think that they are just going to give you the Epsilon unit when you ask them for it?”

He let out a quiet, almost amused laugh. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been lied to, taken advantage of, shot in the back, and left for dead.” He wished some of them were figurative. “And now, I have a way out of all of this.” 

“What in the hell makes you think I’m going to ask for it?”

The man laughed. “Very well then. We’ve got your equipment ready.”

Washington seemed surprised. “That fast?” Someone else had to be listening in on this conversation, he hadn’t seen the man make any move to communicate with someone. He really hated not knowing who else could be watching. It set him on edge.

“Indeed, that fast.” He pressed a button. “Go ahead.” The door opened, and Washington might as well have seen a ghost. Because to him, this man was a ghost. 

Maine stood in front of him, or at least, Maine’s armor. A flood of questions arose. Was someone else in the suit? Where did that leave Maine? He hadn’t been able to find Marcus after he detonated the EMP. David’s pulse quickened, and the hold on his pistol tightened.

“This is Agent Maine.” The man began, as if he had read his mind.

“I’m aware of this.” His voice was strained. “But is this just his body? What remains of his mind post-Sigma?” The term felt weird, and almost parallel to his situation. An A.I. fucked with a human’s head and left them mentally changed.

“Very little, actually. He follows orders, doesn’t question a single thing. He’s a shell of a man. Fortunately, we can use those.”

It took all of Washington’s strength, all of his control, to not lash out at the man. He was happy Sigma had done this? He considered it a benefit? God, after all this was over, he was adding him to his hit list. That list seemed to be growing longer and longer.

“I have been informed of your past relation to him. I trust this will not be a problem?” 

Washington paused, tried to speak, then paused again. How could he say that just throwing all the feelings aside for the person he once loved wouldn’t ‘be a problem’? 

“No sir.” By lying. By gritting your damn teeth and getting the hell through it. Maine is gone. This isn’t Maine. Don’t let them change him. He would not, no he could not, let them drag Maine down with the hell Sigma put him through. “But that is not Agent Maine.”

“I beg your pardon?”  
“That is The Meta. Anything that could be attained to Agent Maine was lost a long time ago.” He made his point clear. Washington would remember Maine the way he was. A reserved, but caring man. The guy who he told a knock knock joke to the first day he got there because York told him that Marcus loved them. The one thing he could look back on from this nightmare and it not be tainted.

“Very well then. The Meta will be helping you with your assignment.” 

“Understood.” It wasn’t much, but even the change of name felt better. It was good to separate the two. 

“How fast can we get to Valhalla?” That did not mean he enjoyed it. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. He really, really hoped the Reds and Blues had not moved again. That would just make it take longer. And if his last wild goose chase was anything to go by, it would take weeks.

“I’ll schedule for you two to be dropped off. You leave in the morning.” He nodded, a smile on his face. “Goodbye, Agent Washington.” The screen flickered, then went black. 

“Okay, time’s up.” The soldier he had met earlier opened the door. His eyes went to The Meta. “Jesus Christ. Come on, let’s go.” Washington wasted no time getting out of the room. He was escorted back down the hallway and to his cell. Where The Meta went, he did not know. Nor did he care. He was going to enjoy his last moments of semi-solitude. Although, when the person next to you did not speak and did not act out of orders, he wondered, would he really be any less alone then he was now?


	9. Dishonorable Discharge

Day in, day out. Day in, day out. This was how his life currently went. When all of this started, he thought he was doing what was right. Now, it seemed, he had become the antagonist of his own story. But, as he soon learned, he did not really care. He wanted his freedom, wanted to finally have a chance to start again. And if that meant screwing everyone over, working with a monster, and making some...questionable decisions, then that was what it took.

Once he accepted this, he found working with The Meta was far easier. He could distance himself. He was owed this, he needed to do this. And The Meta didn’t care anyways, so why should he? And now, he could go through the motions and feel nothing. He shot Donut, intimidated Simmons, did whatever he needed to do to keep moving forward. After all, he was just following orders. After a while, he found, he almost enjoyed it; not having to worry about the moral implications. He didn’t have to be the good guy anymore, he could, with few limits, do whatever the hell he wanted. 

In their pursuit of Epsilon, they had picked up a prisoner. Well, prisoner in the way he wasn’t allowed to leave, but he’d made no move to do so. Washington couldn’t exactly recall what the man’s name was, he thought it was Fred. But everyone called him Doc, so he did as well. Minus a few hiccups with the red team, the only problem they’d had was simply just finding the damn thing. A few times, they had come so close, only to lose it once more. For a group of idiot simulation troopers, they surprisingly were not that bad. He assured himself it was simply luck. And, admittedly, the rapport between him and his lovely partner was a little lacking. On a point he found almost humorous, he was now able to distinguish between the different types of growls The Meta made. It wasn’t the best communication, but it was, sadly, better than the communication they had had post-accident of the MOI.

It seemed they had exhausted all their leads, leading them to a dead end in the middle of a friggin’ desert. One night when they stopped to rest (although Washington could never truly tell if The Meta slept), he was proved wrong. On his data pad, a bright blue light appeared. Recovery beacon, priority zero, answer immediately.

“What is that? Where is that coming from? It can't be.” He had to squint, just to be sure. The Meta growled, confused.

“I'm getting it too. I should have known he might end up there.” How had they not thought to check there?

“What is it?” The purple soldier, Doc, questioned.

“It's a recovery beacon. It's him; it's Epsilon. Doc, go get a vehicle. Meta, you grab the memory unit.” It was him, holy shit it was him. Epsilon must have gotten himself another body, and then got shot. Well, tough luck for him. The Meta growled again.

“But where are we going?”  
“We're going to the only place that's left.” It always seemed important life events wound up at Sidewinder.

\--

The ride there had been relatively smooth, given they were on a planet of literal ice. Wash rode shotgun, Doc drove, and The Meta handled the turret on the back. THey had to be ready for anything. If someone was going after Epsilon, they were either very dangerous, or very stupid. In his experience, he’d found stupid did not mean a sure victory. The Reds and Blues were living proof of that. After going over a small snow bluff, they found Epsilon. He was laying in the snow, with some blue tinted armor. No one else appeared to be around.

“Something doesn’t seem right here; stop the car.”

“Stop?” Doc asked with a hint of distress, but stopped anyways. 

“I don’t like this. How did he get hurt, why isn’t anyone helping him?” A low growl came form The Meta.

“You’re right, this is a trap.” Washington kept his gun in the ready position, eyes scanning the horizon. “There’s walls of ice. Perfect for a sniper.” The landscape was near barren, all covered in white. A few trees broke up the monotony, but only just. “We get in to where he’s hurt and suddenly we’re boxed in. Nowhere to go.”

“Ya think the Reds are trying to ambush us?”

“The Reds?” He was willing to give them credit for convenient nonsense, but that was a step too far. Washington let out a laugh. “No. This is an actual military tactic. We drilled it all the time in training. No, whoever set this up is a Freelancer.” How many exactly were there left? He could probably count it on one hand. 

“Yeah, but if a Freelancer set this up, wouldn't they know that you guys were Freelancers, and that you would recognize this as soon as you saw it?” That was a fair point, but unlikely. 

“What? No, you're overthinking it. That's just-” In a near perfect circle, lights surrounded the warthog.

“Oh, son of a bitch.”

Doc let out a sigh. “Told you so.”

An explosion erupted underneath them, sending the warthog, as well as the three soldiers, all in various directions. Washington's vision, and bearings, were jarred. He scrambled to sit up and see what was going on. There was blood on his arms, but he felt no wound. It must be the adrenaline. Although his sight was blurry, he could almost swear- oh no.

“It can't be. Tex?” He reached for his gun, but was stopped by a foot to his wrist and a gun to his head. “You're supposed to be dead.” 

“Don't sound so disappointed. You'll make me cry. Where's The Director?” Wait, she wasn’t after Epsilon? He didn't understand.

“The Director? Id- how would I know that?”

“Tsk tsk tsk-...wrong answer.” She went to shoot him, but was tackled by The Meta. It charged after her, and was met with a swift punch in the face. They entered a brief hand-to-hand combat, Meta losing it very quickly. Tex pulled from the snow a mini machine gun, spraying bullets in a wide arc. Washington took the distraction time and got to his feet. From the memory unit, he pressed a button. A spike protruded out of it now. It seemed Tex had weapons stored everywhere. From a nearby ice block, she pulled out two standard assault rifles. Washington swung at her with the blade to no avail. She knocked the unit out of his hands, towards a cliff.

“No!” He dived after it. “Be more careful, this thing can't take any more hits!” He spoke as if he wasn’t the one who had endangered it in the first place. The Meta managed to get on top of Tex. She immediately returned fire and kicked him off. He fell next to Wash, their back’s now facing a wall. Tex pulled out some form of detonator.

“Is that a-” She clicked it, and the wall of ice behind them exploded into hundreds of fragments. Washington ran forward, attempting to hit her with the spike. He was kicked away. Meta went ahead of him, grabbing the unit. 

“Meta, take it! Hit her!” They continued this almost leap-frog form of attacking, one jumping ahead of the other. Once they got out of the way of the debris, they regrouped. Tex ducked behind a particularly large part of debris. She detonated another set of bombs, splitting the ground beneath them into several parts, before running. Finally, Washington hit her with a few bullets. She let out a groan and fell to the icy floor. The victory was short lived, as they realized they were on the falling side of the cliff. “Oh my God. Run!” He ran toward safety. The Meta, seeing the Bruteshot falling, ran after it. 

“Meta, wait! God dammit!” The Meta was able to grab the Bruteshot and stab it into the cliff. Washington, however, could not make the jump anymore. 

“Wash, here!” Doc appeared on the top of the liff, holding the hook from the warthog. “Take this!” Washington waved with his arms.

“Throw it! Throw it!”  
Doc launched it over the cliff...barely. It fell far short of where it needed to go. 

“You've got to be kidding me.” He got a running start, then leaped. He managed to get a hold of the hook, climbing up via the cable with a groan. “That was the second worst throw, ever. Of all time.” Caboose still held first place. 

“What do you want from me, I ran track in high school.”

Meta ran after Tex, swinging with the Bruteshot. She swung back with a knife, slicing him in the stomach before stabbing him in the shoulder. He let out a groan, then fired a grenade directly at her feet, throwing her backwards. 

“Meta, wait! We don't need to hurt her, we only need-” He grabbed the memory unit and stabbed the spike into Tex’s helmet, taking the A.I. out of the body. After, he threw her to the side as he had Carolina. 

“No, stop! Let her outta that thing.” Epsilon seemed to be in better shape, at least standing.

“We can't, the unit is failing.” Washington turned towards Epsilon. “Epsilon, it's over. You are coming with us.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you. We can fight you.”

“We can?” Doc looked to Church.

“We will.”

“Ah great.” Doc internally sighed. 

“I'm sorry to hear that. Meta, give me the memory unit.” There was no response. “...Meta?”

The Meta was staring at the unit in his hand, eyeing it. Washington had a bad feeling about it. “Meta, no! Don't-” The Meta stuck the unit to the back of its armor and vanished. “Dammit. Doc, you have to protect Epsilon.” His voice came out slightly frantic. He couldn't lose this, not now.

“W- what do I do?”

“Run!” He was smacked in the face seconds later by the Bruteshot. Doc and Epsilon ran, while Washington jumped on The Meta’s back. “I'll try to hold him.” Once he was thrown off, he began to fire at him. The Meta returned fire with grenades, knocking Washington far back. He was back against a wall, kneeling down.

“I knew you would do this Meta. I just can't believe…” He could see a trail of black smoke behind The Meta. “Can't believe…” It was a pelican, with the Reds inside. “I can't believe it.” The ship flew right over the heads, crashing into the snow. It came to a halt just in front of Doc, who stepped to the side of it to speak to Washington. 

“Whoa, that was a close one.”

“I would say that was the cavalry, but I've never seen a line of horses crash into the battle field from outer space before.” Regardless, he was glad for the help. 

Epsilon stood beside Wash. “Hey, is it possible for a memory fragment out of an artificial intelligence program enclosed inside of a robotic body to piss its pants? Because I'm pretty sure I just did that.”

“Come on. Let's see how many of your friends survived that.” Washington moved forward. 

“You know they're not really my friends.”

“That's okay I'm sure none of them really survived.” This new alliance, it was strange. Both knew the other had opposing intentions, but both also realized The Meta was a bitch to kill. Grif, Sarge, Simmons, Caboose, and Tucker exited the pelican and talked amongst themselves for a minute, before kicking the pelican off the cliff. 

“Has anyone seen Tex?” Epsilon looked around.

“I'm sorry Epsilon. The Meta captured her in the memory unit.” Washington glanced over to him.

“There it is! Hey, there it is just lying in the snow.” Church approached the unit, and Washington followed behind. “She's here!” Washington took in a deep breath.

“Epsilon there's nothing we can do, she's stuck in there.”

“So, let her out.” The others began to form a circle around them.

“We rigged it so it's one-way. We didn't want you to escape again.” To talk about these plans in front of Epsilon was uncomfortable, to say the least. 

“Well unrig it.”  
“I need to get it to a lab, somewhere with tools.”

“Simmons?”

“Hey, he's the expert, I don't know what I can do to help.” Simmons shrugged.

“And it's in no condition to move. If it locks down before I can open it she'll be trapped in there.” Washington agreed.

“We should try something.” Simmons argued.

“If I let her out, you have to come with me.”

“Yes, fine, just get her out.” Church responded impatiently. 

“Caboose, Tucker, get in the base. See if you can find some tools.” The two nodded to Washington and left. He turned to the Reds. “You three find me anything that has power. Anything and everything. We're gonna need a lot to keep it online.” The Reds exited.

“I can get her out.” Epsilon spoke up.

“What? No.”

“It's my only option.”

“I need you Epsilon, you're my only ticket out of this mess. If you get stuck in there they'll never believe me, I'm not going back to prison.”

“I can do it.”

“No, I won't let you.”

“You can't stop me. I have to help her. She's here because of us.”

Washington paused a moment before responding. “Because of me?” 

“Not you us. Me, and Alpha, and The Director.” Oh crap.

“You've started to remember.”

“I found some journals from The Director. She's someone from his life. Someone he loved.”  
“Allison. Her name was Allison.” Saying the name out loud left a weird feeling on his tongue.

“Allison…” Church thought for a moment. “When they made Alpha, she came back. She was a by-product of the process”

“She's just a shadow.”

“Don't call her that.” The A.I. snapped at him. “She died in her real life, and that's all The Director ever remembered of her. So now, no matter how tough she is, no matter how hard she fights, she's always going to fail, because that's what she's based on. No matter what she's doing, or what she's trying to accomplish, just when her goal is within her reach, it gets yanked away. Every, single, time. Can you imagine what that's like?” 

The memory unit moved, The Meta uncloaked and stood up, the unit still on its back. 

“I think I'm getting the idea.”

The Meta swung at Epsilon and fired a grenade, pushing him back. Washington grabbed his rifle and began firing in an attempt to draw him away from the A.I. It worked, the two backing farther and farther away from Epsilon. Explosions rang out beside him from all around. He wasn’t even sure he was hitting The Meta at all, he was only stalling. He needed the Reds and Blues to get there, fast. He was brought into a hand-to-hand combat. Well, more knifle to small combat knife. He took a stab at The Meta, who then cloaked. Washington saw a movement in the snow and threw the knife at it, hitting it square in the chest. Once again, he pulled out his assault rifle. He fired a bullet, The Meta fired a grenade, and only one of them was left standing. Washington was flung onto his back, near the warthog. He tried to stand back up, but couldn’t. His body just couldn’t take this many injuries at once. He couldn’t tell much of what was going on anymore, but he could tell the “cavalry” had arrived. Mostly by Grif’s screaming. 

A few moments later, Sarge had been thrown next to him. “Wash, come on, he needs help.” He wasn’t sure who Sarge was referring to, but it didn’t matter.

“I can't. I'm done.” He managed to say.

“Guys, I can't fight him by myself!” Tucker shouted in their general direction.

“Here, take this. You know what to do.” He pushed the hook of the warthog towards Sarge, who took it and ran. Past that, well, Washington couldn’t really tell what happened. He was busy floating in a sea of unconsciousness.


	10. Requiem

If Washington had to pinpoint the moment where shit hit the fan, he’d probably pin it to when a group of idiots decided to save his dumb ass. 

After The Meta’s betrayal, he had succumbed to injuries. He, evidently, actually missed the end of the battle. From what he had heard, they had been able to throw the Meta off the cliff using the warthog. Good. At least he had done something useful. When he found out The Meta was finally, truly gone, he expected himself to be torn and upset. But instead, all he could feel was a calm sense of relief. It was one thing less in his past that he had to deal with in a physical sense. Of course, he would always be dealing it on some form of mental level. But now, he believed, he could finally heal. He could let Maine be a part of his past.

When he woke, he could hear the sounds of soldiers and a pelican whirring. All he could think was that once again, he would end up in prison. He was going to be there with no way out. They wouldn’t trust him to find Epsilon again. Not after he aided in the killing of The Meta. If anything, it would be merciful if they just killed him now. But the soldiers seemed to be entirely ignoring him. So he sat up. Sitting next to him was his own armor. He knew, on a logic level, that he wasn’t having some out-of-body experience. But just to be sure, he had looked at his hands. He was wearing blue armor. The body Epsilon had taken over’s armor. And from that, he drew the only conclusion. The Reds and Blues had just saved him.

When he asked, they all had various reasons for it. Tucker wanted Caboose to stop whining, Caboose wanted to “keep him”, whatever he meant by that. And that way the teams would be even. But the cause didn’t truly matter. As far as Project Freelancer, and anyone else was concerned, the man known as Agent Washington was dead. Never had he thought that being dead would be so great. Naturally, he joined blue team to replace their missing teammate. Epsilon had went into the unit in an attempt to find another iteration of Tex. And from there, the soldiers had taken the unit. He knew the Blues wanted to go after it, and was willing to help. Even moreso, after he was visited by an old friend.

“Well, according to the government we’re both dead. How’s that been?” Carolina had approached him one night not long after they had returned to Valhalla. The Blues were asleep, but he found that he was simply unable to sleep. So he had went outside.

“Pretty nice, actually.” Washington could have embraced her in a hug, or said a billion things about how he missed her. But that wasn’t her style. So he followed her example; there would be time to ask questions later and figure out where the other had been. For now, just leave it.

“Yeah, it’s kinda fun not having to deal with a dozen organizations breathing down your back.” Carolina gestured her arm to a spot near Washington, and he scooted over to give her room.

“Then why the hell did you come here?” There was a hint of a joke in his voice. “The Blood Gulch Crew isn’t some SIM operation anymore. They’ve broken out, they’ve been noticed. It won’t be long before The Chairman realizes that there’s an extra body here.”

“I don’t intend on staying.” She pulled one knee up to her chest, the other one hanging loosely off the edge of the base. “I want to take them with me.”

“The Reds and Blues?” Washington turned to face her. “For what?”

“For Epsilon. He’s the last connection I have to The Director’s whereabouts.” The bitterness in her voice was undeniable. “I’m going to find him, Wash. And I’m going to kill him.”

To say Washington hadn’t thought similar thoughts would be a flat out lie. But he was willing to leave it in favor of maybe having a new life. “Why now? Why haven’t you tried before?”

“Didn’t know where to start before now. And now I know I’ve only got one other Freelancer to keep track of. And he has plenty of reasons to hate The Director, and a lot of free time now.” She brought the other leg up, crossing them. “I want to talk to them tomorrow. Are you going to have my back?”

“Always.” There was no hesitation.

“I hoped so.” She put a hand on his shoulder and stood up. “I’ll see you in the morning, Wash.”

He sat in the darkness for a few hours more, before sleep finally took him. So, he’d found love, lost it, went through hell and back trying to fix it, and now was going on a crazy chase to finally get back at the man who had caused it all. He, and his team, were honestly, genuinely, screwed.

And he found, this time, he didn’t mind.


End file.
